


Women

by allmyinvisiblemonsters



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Nightmares, No Sex, Reflection, this is not porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmyinvisiblemonsters/pseuds/allmyinvisiblemonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people thought he didn’t have nightmares. He did. They weren’t about the people he’d killed, or the monsters he’d fought. They were about the women who died because of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Women

Most people thought he didn’t have nightmares.

He did.

They weren’t about the people he’d killed, or the monsters he’d fought. They were about the women who died because of him.

Solange. The alluring Italian with the cold husband. He never even fucked her; they only rolled around on the rug together. She was charming and erotic, but ultimately just a means to an end. Staring at her mangled body didn’t move him at the time, but was now a reminder of his failures. Her death was most preventable. But he did nothing. He was young, proud, and focused on a mission. A life was lost. She could have been happy. She could have found that nice man she was looking for and had a good life, children. He tried not to dwell. There’s always collateral damage.

Vesper, his Vesper. The love of his life. She was a liar and he’d never forgive her that, but he loved her even now. They could have been happy, he thought. His worst nightmares were about her. Sometimes, he watched her choke over and over again. Saw the pain in her face, the horror of knowing she was about to die. Other times, his brain tortured him with all the different things he could have done to save her. All the life-saving scenarios would play like a merry-go round in front of his face. But the most awful recurring dream was her just floating in that cage, eyes closed, body lifeless. For what felt like hours inside his head, he would watch her float, just out of reach.

Agent Fields. Strawberry. A sweet name for a sweeter girl. She was feisty, threatened to arrest him. She wasn’t a liar. She wasn’t even field ready. An office worker. Drowned to send him a message. He only spent one evening with her, just her and him. She wasn’t innocent, but she was… light. She felt guilty afterwards for breaking protocol, for mixing business with pleasure. He wasn’t used to that. She was honestly good, and there were days when he felt the worst about her death. Out of all of them, she deserved death the least.

Sévérine. Beautiful and doomed. A former child prostitute. He shouldn’t have fucked her. Rarely do his own actions cause his skin to crawl. He’s a selfish bastard and sex is no different. But he shouldn’t have fucked her. Her death haunted him, but he didn't feel guilty. There’s nothing he could have done. On some level, he knew from the moment he looked into her eyes that she was dead. She knew it too. The fear in her eyes held no hope. Perhaps, subconsciously, they were both aware that they were sailing to her death which was why he pushed to hold her. Perhaps that was why she let him. Still, he shouldn’t have fucked her. It would have made aiming a gun at her easier. When he thinks of her, he hopes that there is a heaven. Somewhere a child-her could run free from horror.

M. Arguably the most important woman in his life. He had known her longer than any of them. Knew her since he was a furious young pup, angry at the world and ravenous because of it. He trusted her, most of the time, and she used him, molded him into exactly what she needed. Constantly pushing, constantly irritated, constantly disappointed. He hated her sometimes, especially when she was alive. A master at manipulation, and he was her puppet. It was no surprise that Silva slaved to kill her because it was even less of a surprise that she had left him for dead. She could do that. She could give a kill order. She could make the decision no one else could with no remorse. Regrets were unprofessional. He thought _he_ was a cold, unfeeling sociopath but she… she wasn’t human. He had never feared another woman like he had feared her. Except she _was_ human. Mortal like the rest of them. It was only as he held her in Skyfall did he realize how much he cared for her. It was duty that drove him to protect her, but love that compelled him to hold her in her last moments. She was the closest thing he had to a mother, no matter how fucked up that made him. Nothing was as pleasing as hearing her say that she had gotten one thing right, that she was grateful she had bet her cards on him. Nothing tore him apart more than lowering the lids of her unseeing eyes. He looked forward to the day he would greet her in hell.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any errors or grammatical mistakes, please let me know.


End file.
